Break the Silence
by forbidden adrenaline
Summary: In the first chapter, Ron discovers a secret that Harry has been hiding for quite awhile.
1. The First Confession

CHAPTER ONE

Harry, as of tonight, like many nights before, is sleepless. For some hours, he would simply stare into the ceiling of the lifeless dorm. On other days, of which he could not think clearly without expressing his heart, he would write into his diary. Due to his very private thoughts, which involve unlikely people, no one - absolutely, no one - shall discover them. So, he configured a special lock.

This diary was customized in a specific way. Everything in its detail was symbolic, or contained memories that were the most influential, as well as devastating.

The book's covers were completely black. He often felt trapped in his mind, which is why he chose writing for an outlet. What could be a better way of self expression, than explaining your soul through your own words? The blackness symbolizes the abyss, that metaphorically represents his hidden desire for things that cannot be said.

Embedded into the front cover was a photo of his parents. It was the only one that he had left. Anything could destroy this diary, and he would not give a care. If anything happened to this photo, then he would feel utterly lost and hopeless. It would be like losing his parents for one more time.

On the back, it had "No Good" in elegant font, and a decent size. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" should ring a bell. No explanation is absolutely necessary.

"Colloportus," he whispered into his wand. Everybody else was asleep, so his actions remained undiscovered. It better stay that way.

The first page number, which is located on the top left corner of the first page, is not "1". This particular diary did not read its pages properly. This was Harry's diary. Not a five-year-old, giddy girl's book of complaints and list of crushes, whom of which have yet to acknowledge her existence. No, the first number is "9 3/4".

Harry waved his wand cautiously, yet gracefully, above his previously written words. The first page contained his excitement during his First Year at Hogwarts. He smiled warmly. Nostalgia rushed through his bones, and created goose bumps across his arms.

He quickly turned several pages forward. There were nearly fifty blank pages. He skipped all of the romance. He skipped all of the awards. He skipped all of the personal victories. There is still one thing that he wishes to possess. He looked deeply into the naked pair of pages. The top corners had no numbers. He never thought of continuing. He did not obtain the passion to further his hobby.

The reason why he suddenly became so passionate, was due to a change in his heart. This specific reasoning will either change his life for the better, or make it a living nightmare.

He touched the tip of his wand to the left page, directly on the center. A live portrait of Draco Malfoy appeared. Harry smiled brightly, revealing all of his happy teeth. His blue eyes glistened in the only light that shined back at him. Draco's portrait got on its respectful knee, and a speech bubble appeared to the right. Inside of said speech bubble, Draco's portrait let three words escape. "I love you," and it smiled just as brightly. Harry began to write on the next page.

"__Dear Draco, __

__I have yet to inform you how I truly feel. I'm terrified, but extraordinarily excited whenever I think about the possibilities. I have never felt this way before. Well, maybe except for right before my second Quidditch tournament. Battling against you tore my heart in half. It only split us apart even further. I don't understand how someone is allowed to love the opposite sex, but be terribly judged by someone who is completely different. I have had feelings for girls in the school, but none of which compare to you, my dearest Draco. I don't even know why I'm writing this. You'll never read it. I'm a hopeless romantic. I'm in love with the best man in the world, and he is, unfortunately, unaware.__"

The scratches of the quill against the paper woke up Ron. He blinked a few times, and rose a brow in confusion. Harry shut the book, and locked it without using magic. Ron surprised him by quickly removing the sheet fort.

"What's that, Harry? What's that?" He whispered mockingly. "It's not a diary, is it?"

"No, it's not! Now go back to bed!"

Ron looked at his clock by his bedside. "Bloody hell, Harry, it's three in the morning!"

"Which is exactly why you need to go to bed, Ron."

Ron looked away disappointed. "I will if you will."

Harry put his sheets back onto his bed properly. Then, he pulled his comforter over his shoulders. Just as Ron was about to get equally as comfortable, Harry turned to look at Ron. His linens ruffled with his movement.

"Ron?" Harry asked, hoping that he didn't fall asleep so soon. Actually, it would be impossible. He simply needed to vent. His adrenaline began to rush. What if Ron didn't accept him as a friend? What if everything changed after he told Ron of his true feelings for Draco?

"What is it, Harry?" He asked, half annoyed.

"If you're too tired to talk, then go back to bed."

"Firstly," he began to lecture Harry, "you're not my mum. My mum's my mum." Ron smirked. Harry smiled and giggled. "What do you want?"

Suspense rose. He was thinking twice about admitting his feelings for someone whom Ron despised. His bravery got the best of him again. He had to know how Ron would cooperate.

"Say," he stuttered, "-say you had feelings for someone."

"Okay?" Ron asked, confused.

Harry turned around. He couldn't tell Ron while looking at him.

"Say, you couldn't tell them because you were afraid of how they felt?"

Ron came to an improbable epiphany. "You don't mean m-me? Do you, Harry?"

Harry narrowed his eyebrows, and wondered how he'd come to this conclusion. Oh, no. No. It shocked him. He can't have this. It cannot happen.

"Well?" Ron asked, as impatiently as always. He kept his eyes on the back of Harry's lucius, dark hair. Ron's breathing increased and instantly became heavier.

"Ron, I'm talking about someone you don't really, well," he stuttered for the right words, but kept it simple, "like."

"Honestly, Harry, if you have feelings for someone, then I'd have to accept it. It's also none of my business. It's not like you're going to date both of us."

Harry shook in pure disgust. He couldn't think once about ever taking Ron out on a date. Let alone, merely kiss him. Almost immediately, Harry thought of Draco. His fair hair, always greased over. He longed to ruff it up, and make it unbalanced. He imagined Draco's sweaty body intertwined with his own. Unintentionally, he groaned.

"Harry, who is it?"

Harry turned around. He breathed in deeply, and then exhaled quickly. It was as if he were about to give a seminar.

"He is different from everyone I know. He is afraid to see himself for how great he can truly be. He acts tough, but only wishes to be nurtured-"

Ron opened his eyes wide. "He?!"

Harry remained serious, although the way Ron expressed that single word was overbearingly comical. There was no reason to feel offended. He nodded once, still very nervous.

"If you understood how I felt, you'd have gone mad by now. I need him like you need Hermione."

Ron was dumbfounded. A minute went by. That minute was the longest time that they had spent in a room, but only quietly.

Ron was the first to break the silence.

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't support my best friend and his intentions?" He smiled warmly.

"A bad one," he sarcastically remarked. They rejoiced in short laughter. "Thank you, Ron."

"Any time."

Ron turned onto this opposite side. Harry laid on his back, and rested his head on his folded hands. The biggest smile rested on his soft lips. He could finally go to sleep peacefully.


	2. Sure, Son

CHAPTER TWO

Harry was sweating.

It was nearly eight in the morning. He was going to be late for his lectures.

He could not stop dreaming about Draco. If he could not have Draco in reality, then he could at least own his heart in his own world. In his dream, he was doing everything that he'd wished to do. In his dream, not only Draco's heart belonged to Harry, but his entire being. It was heaven.

"Draco-" Harry inhaled quickly.

Draco slowly removed Harry's shirt. He gently caressed Harry's waistline.

"Sh," he demanded. "You don't have to talk. It's better if we let our bodies do all the talking."

Harry's eyes opened wide. He groaned deeply. Draco's hands ran up Harry's perfect torso. He kissed just below the center of Harry's pecks. He ran his tongue up to the left side of his neck, and began to suck tightly. Every other second or so, he would nibble on his pale skin.

Harry's breath was cut short. His heart was pumping loudly. Draco squinted his eyes in pure pleasure. He continued to suck on his neck.

Harry could not take it anymore. He had to have his turn. He grunted as he simultaneously, and violently, pushed Draco against the nearest wall.

"I want to go all the way, Draco," he admitted, in almost a growl. He had to have Draco. He had to be inside of him. He had to own everything.

Harry reached for Draco's pant's zipper. Draco lifted his chin. His sensitive skin was obvious. Harry wanted to own Draco's virginity, as well.

"Harry, you need to wake up," Draco mouthed. He mouthed the words, because his voice belonged to Ron. "Harry, c'mon, you're going to embarrass yourself."

Harry was confused. Everything turned pitch black. He was all alone once more. It was hell.

When Harry woke up, Ron was inches away from his face.

"About time," he complained.

Something felt abnormal. Usually, a bed would feel comfortable. What was he laying on?

"Oh, no," Harry said in disgust.

"You've got to do something about your crush, Harry. You're going to be late now, because you have to take care of your linens."

"Ugh."

He would do something if there was given a sign. If there was a sign that Draco at least shared a glimpse of the same emotion, then it would be a tad simpler. These emotions that he feels are more complicated than those of a female and male's connection. There are more risks. At least Ron understood. But, there is also the possibility of betrayal. What if Ron believed Harry to be a traitor for falling in love with the enemy? Would he be willing to support Harry then? At this point, the only person he worried about losing entirely was Draco. All Harry needed was affirmation.

The sheets were wet, and that declared the obsession. Everyone was already present at their lectures. Harry felt thankful for Ron's loyalty. If he didn't wake him up, then who knows what embarrassing stories Harry would have to come up with.

Ron got Harry a set of clothes together for the day. "I'm not touching that bed, though, Mate."

Harry nodded, partially ashamed.

Half of the day has passed. He has not seen any sign of Draco. Where could he be? In a half hour, it would be lunch time. Everybody would have to meet under the same roof. He would have to be there without any pathetic excuses.

"Harry!" A familiar voice returned from behind. "Harry, where have you been?" The nagging voice crescendoed as did her concern.

He didn't bother to turn around. She was already up to speed with him.

"What do you want, Hermione?" He said, hurriedly and impatiently. He remained courteous and knew she kept her best interests for him.

Hermione gasped quickly, but did not ponder over it too excessively.

"Harry, I need to tell you something important-"

"Not now, I need to find someone," which probably sounded fishy. Maybe it would be best if he created an excuse within the next two milliseconds. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to escort Draco to his office immediately."

She rose a brow as quickly as he bended the truth. "That's just it, Harry." Her curiosity was obvious. She knew that he had fibbed. "Dumbledore has asked me to escort you to his office. What could he possibly need with both of you? Have you both gotten into some sort of trouble? Did he do something to you?"

Regardless of how many questions she asked, her questionnaire bazooka ended as quickly as it started.

"I wish," Harry said. It was every bit of the truth as he could have hoped for. He longed for Draco to do "something" to him - anything, at least. Even if it was to place a single hand against his face for a second, it would suffice. Locking eyes, and figuratively lurking within his soul would be enough. Hell, it would be everything he needed. If Voldemort were to kill Harry today, he would die with the last thought of regret. His regret held the face of the only one who claimed his still-beating heart.

She took it as a promising dare; an indirect, yet harmless threat, even. She found humor in his weak sarcasm. All she allowed to escape was a short giggle. Even that was a little sympathetic.

"I trust you can find your way to Dumbledore's office? You basically live there."

Harry nodded with a smile. His ambitions would have to wait. Draco would have to wait.

Harry was face to face with Dumbledore within minutes. He was sitting behind his desk. Dumbledore held his poker face well, until he opened his drawer. He placed Harry's diary on top of his desk. It slid due to forced friction. Harry could not depict whether it was aggressive, or pure laziness.

Of course, at this very moment, every negative thought pulsed through his mind.

"I know what you're thinking, Harry," he rose his bushy brow.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He read it. He read it. There's no other explanation for this meeting.

"No," he said reassuringly, "I did not read your diary. However, if there is something that you wish to express, or blow off steam, Harry, then by all means. I am all ears."

An awkward moment of silence flew by. He was a father to Harry. There is no way that the Headmaster would turn his own back on his own son.

"Can I tell you a secret, Professor? This is a secret, and my whole life depends on it."

Dumbledore let out a few muffled giggles. He didn't know the half of it.

"Let's say, hypothetically, you fell in love with someone whom you could not be with-"

"So soon, hm?"

Harry magically transformed into a tamato.

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Well, that's just it, Sir," he looked at his boring, black shoes. It helped with the anxiety. That's what he wanted to call it, anyways.

"Boy?"

Harry looked up instantly. His face gave it completely away.

"I would name off a few, but the only one that seems likely, would be Ron," he did not let off a hint of disgust, or denial.

"You're not freaked out by me, Sir?"

"Harry, I am as gay as the fourth of July. At least, on some occasions. I get the best of both worlds. Being who I am has its privileges. Severus and I were an item for a semester or two. He ended it when your mother-" His eyes grew wide. "Never mind."

Harry was as confused as he had ever been. "Thank you for understanding, Professor."

"If you wish to have this diary back," he held it in his hand, shaking it with each given syllable.

"You can have it, Sir. I don't think I'll be needing it anymore. Do you mind if I take the picture?"

"Sure, Son." Dumbledore handed the picture back to Harry. Harry bowed, and left the office with utmost confidence. Today was going to be the day. He was going to confess to Draco.


End file.
